


Roman Holiday

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the 1953 movie starring Gregory Peck as a hard-edged reporter and the much younger Audrey Hepburn as a restless princess in a love that cannot be.<br/>Original screenplay by Ian McLellan Hunter and John Dighton. Written for the JackslashDaniel Reel SG-1 challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I am fiddling with the fashions of 1953 in that no American college student would have been allowed to attend class in jeans. I just think it works better this way.

Roman Holiday

“Did you know,” His Most Royal Highness Prince Daniel inquired nonchalantly, “that there are people in this world who sleep in absolutely nothing?”

His valet sniffed haughtily as he handed his charge a pair of neatly pressed silk pajamas. “I rejoice to say, Your Highness, that I did not.” Although he kept his opinions to himself, he personally felt the recent trip to America had done no favors for the young prince. He had even purchased several pair of those deplorable dungarees and the…sneakers, didn’t even bear thinking about. 

Henri had attempted to discard the items but was stopped firmly by the prince. The older gentleman pretended to concede the skirmish since he had learned long ago to pick his battles, having been the prince’s personal servant for over ten years. He knew as well as anyone that the handsome face the prince showed the world, the summer sky eyes, sweetly dimpled smile, masked a will of iron. 

When his valet gently inquired of where the prince thought he might actually wear the items, he was horrified to hear him state that all the American college students his age wore them on campus. This launched the man into a lecture about how a prince could, and should, dress while attending university classes. As far as he was concerned, those jeans would never see the light of day; he just had to catch the prince distracted enough to whisk them away.

“Your Highness, let us discuss your schedule for tomorrow. Promptly at eight fifteen, you will dine with the Embassy staff. At nine-oh-four, you will leave to attend the opening of the Polinory Automotive Works, where you will be presented with a small car.”

“Thank you very much.” Daniel answered quite disinterestedly from the bathroom.

“Which you will not accept.”

“No, thank you.” He answered obediently.

“Ten thirty-five, you will inspect a food and agricultural display at the university, where they will present you with an olive tree.”

“No, thank you.” Daniel wandered back into the lavishly decorated guestroom.

“Which you will accept.”

“Thank you, I would love to.”

“At eleven-thirty, you will return to the embassy to change for the press conference with the American reporters. Your trunk arrived from Paris, thankfully, this afternoon. Your Highness will wear the navy suit with the pale blue shirt and sapphire cufflinks.”

“I am charmed.” He repeated listlessly.

A polite knock at the door heralded the arrival of the prince’s nightly snack of warm milk and crackers. “Henri,” the prince asked with a definite edge in his voice, “can you tell me what my age is?”

“Your Highness will be twenty-one in July. A day that will no doubt be celebrated far and wide by your adoring subjects.”

“None of whom are still having milk and crackers for a bedtime snack when they’re twenty-one!” Daniel’s voice rose in volume until he was shouting.

“Your Highness! Please calm yourself. This is very unbecoming.” Henri chastised him while wearing a bemused expression. Outbursts such as this weren’t commonplace for the usually gentle-natured prince.

“No, it is actually becoming quite pleasant!” With that, Prince Daniel flung the tray forcefully down, leaving a distinguishable stain of milk on a century-old rug.

Henri dashed to the door and whispered a hurried order to the guard. “Your Highness, I beg you to calm yourself. It is obvious you are not yourself.”

“Actually, I am feeling quite myself, thank you very much.”

“You are over-tired, over-wrought. You should have taken more care of your health while you were in America.” He was gently urging the prince toward the huge, silk-draped bed. “You will feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep!” Daniel replied petulantly as he was deposited under sheets of the softest Irish linen.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve seen the doctor.”

“I’ll be dead before he gets here,” Daniel threatened dramatically.

“Come in,” Henri called out to the knock. “Dr. Bonn’chavon, please come in. As you can see, His Highness is overly excited.”

“Ah, did I not tell you that you were over-exerting yourself, Your Highness? Did I not advise that you needed more rest after your illness is America?”

“Yes,” the prince pouted around the thermometer.

“Well, you seem flushed. And your temperature is a bit elevated. Let me give you something to relax you, just to help you sleep, yes?”

Although he wanted to shout and scream, when he looked up into the face of the kindly man who had brought him into this world, who had doctored every ill that had befallen him, who had raced to America to treat a serious allergy attack, the prince simply swallowed his anger and acquiesced quietly, taking the shot without protest. “Thank you, Dr. Bonn’chavon.”

“You will sleep now, Your Highness. Leave him in peace, if you will.” 

It wasn’t until much, much later that the good doctor remembered the very new American allergy medication the prince had recently begun taking.

*

Daniel, in fact, didn’t sleep at all. Less than fifteen minutes after his entourage departed, he was out of bed, dressed in jeans, a plain white shirt and the much maligned sneakers. The rest of his American clothes were stuffed in a knapsack, along with the money no one had thought to retrieve after the state visit. He lithely climbed out his balcony window, inched across a narrow ledge that led to yet another balcony, which led him to a deserted corridor. 

He fled the embassy and disappeared into the starry night.

*

“You have the luck of the very devil,” Charlie Kawalsky commented as he watched Jack O’Neill rake in yet another pot.

“It’s not luck, Charlie,” he maneuvered the cigar around in his lips. “I’m just that good. And on that note, I will bid you a fond good-night.”

“Hey, you’re not leaving already?”

“Got to, have to be up early in the morning, the prince is having a press conference at eleven something.”

“Yes, that’s disgraceful, making you get up before noon.” Kawalsky’s voice was full of sarcasm.

“Yeah, if the guy had any decency at all, he wouldn’t even be up before noon. Later, Charlie.”

He cashed in his chips, making sure he had stuffed the money in his pants pocket before leaving the casino. This wasn’t one of the swank, tourist casinos, but a local dive. Jack preferred them. Since his self-imposed exile from the States, he’d bummed around Europe, taking any news job he could, but he found that he quite liked Rome. The people, the noise, the scenery, made him feel more alive than he had in months; he might just stay a bit longer.

It wasn’t that far back to his rooms but he wasn’t afraid of the dark walk. He was tall, lithe, deceptively so. His silver hair had fooled more than one man into thinking he was older than his years, but he had outgrown street brawls and bare-knuckled fights; he thought he’d be quite content to live out the rest of his life in the quiet and beauty of life as he found it day to day. He had just turned the corner from the gambling hell when he heard a voice mumbling from the park bench up ahead. Intrigued because the voice was speaking English instead of Italian, he cautiously eased over.

Lying curled up on the bench, head pillowed on a back-pack the young man appeared to be an American college student, probably doing a summer tour of Europe. He was having a full-blown conversation with absolutely no one. Jack would have left him, but he felt an obligation to a fellow American so he nudged the kid. “Hey, wake up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Jack snorted. Some rich kid, no doubt, judging by the careful manners. “Listen, kid, if you sleep on a park bench, you’re gonna wind up in jail somewhere.” Or robbed, Jack added silently.

“I’ve never been in jail.” The voice sounded almost wistful.

Jack groaned as he flagged down a passing taxi. “And you don’t want to start this far away from home, trust me. Come on, get up, and let’s get you home.” Jack got him to his feet, snagged the pack and managed to half-carry, half-lead the young man to the cab. “Okay, tell the nice driver where you’re staying.”

“Coliseum.” He muttered before his head sank onto Jack’s shoulder.

“Oh, no, you don’t! Wake up, kid.” The driver was chattering in rapid flow Italian. Jack was cursing under his breath. The kid was snoring softly. “Oh, hell!” Jack gave the driver his address. It looked like he was being paid back for his kindness with a companion, at least for the night. 

Between the two of them, they managed to get him out of the cab and up the steps to Jack’s rooms. He tipped the driver before opening the door and dragging the kid in to dump him on the couch. “Okay, stay there, alright?” Jack grabbed a blanket and a pillow and settled him more comfortably. “I have to get up early, so no more talking, okay?”

“Thank you, I would love to.” He addressed the pillow.

*

Jack groaned as the sunlight sneaked under his closed lids. “Turn off the damned light, will you?” The morning answered by maliciously and loudly ringing church bells to mark the hour. He bolted upright as he realized he’d heard twelve bells. “Damn, damn, damn!” He cursed as he fell out of bed to land heavily on his knees, fumbling for clothes. “Damn that prince!”

“Me?” His still sleeping companion offered the comment from the living room couch as Jack stumbled by.

“Just be quiet, will ya?” Jack tugged a jacket on and headed for the door. “And don’t drink all my coffee.” He slammed the door behind him.

“Coffee?” The voice was hopeful.

*

Jack breezed in through the doors of the Rome branch of the American News Service as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if he hadn’t just missed the biggest press conference of the summer. He stole a half a sandwich from the secretary’s desk before knocking on the boss’s door. “Come in.” He plastered on a confident face before entering.

“Morning, boss.” He slouched nonchalantly in a chair across from the older, bald man.

“Just coming to work?” George Hammond inquired coolly, his Texas twang in full force today.

“Who me?” Jack’s face was all innocence.

“We start our days at eight-thirty in this office, we pick up our assignments…”

“I picked mine up last night.”

“And what assignment was that?”

“The visiting prince? Press conference, eleven forty-five?”

Hammond shuffled some newspapers across his desk. “You’ve already been to the interview?” His tone was disbelieving.

“Well, sure, just got back.” For good measure, he popped the remainder of his stolen sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, it seems I owe you an apology.”

“’s alright.” Jack rose and sauntered toward the door.

“So did the prince answer all the questions?”

“Yeah, well, sure he did.” Jack rummaged through his pockets. “Got my notes right here.”

“Don’t disturb yourself, please. So how did His Highness react to the idea of a European Federation?” His eyes idly scanned one of the newspapers in front of him.

“He thought it was just fine.”

“He did?”

“Well, he thought there’d be two..effects.” He ad libbed.

“Two?”

“Yeah, two. The direct and the…um..indirect.”

“Oh, remarkable.”

“Naturally, he thought the indirect wouldn’t be as…direct….as the…direct. That is, not right away. Later on, of course, well, nobody knows.”

“Well, well, well, that was a shrewd observation. They fool you, you know, these royal kids; they’ve got a lot more on the ball than we suspect.” He glanced down again. “How did he feel about the future friendship of nations?”

“Youth.”

“Youth?” Hammond’s lip quirked slightly.

“He felt that, er.. the youth of the world must lead the way to a better…um…world.” He was slowly making his way toward the door.

“Hmm, original. By the way, what was he wearing?”

Jack froze, his hand mere inches away from the door knob and escape. “Oh, you mean, what did he have on?”

Hammond chuckled. “Well, that’s usually what it means.” He watched as Jack nervously adjusted his collar. “What’s the matter, is it a little warm in here for you?”

“No, no, I just, you know, hurried over here.”

“Oh, naturally, with a story of this magnitude. Did you say he was wearing gray?”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Well, he usually wears gray.”

“Oh, well, I guess it was a kind of a blue-gray.”

“The double-breasted one with the gold buttons.”

“That’s the one, that’s the one. And it looked real nice on him, too.”

“I’m sure it did. If the prince had actually been wearing it.” He held the newspaper up so that Jack could read the headline, which he did with a sinking heart. “In view of the fact that His Royal Highness was taken violently ill at three o’clock this morning, put to bed with a high fever and had all his appointments for the day cancelled en toto!”

“En toto?”

“Yes, Mr. O’Neill, en toto.”

Jack shrugged. “Alright, alright, I overslept. It can happen to anyone.”

“If you ever got up early enough to actually read a morning paper, you might discover little news events of general interest.” He shoved the paper at Jack, who glanced at a picture of the smiling prince kneeling to take flowers from a small, clearly awe-struck girl greeting him at the airport. Jack froze as he looked at the face of the young prince, a face he had last seen jammed into a pillow on his couch.

“Is this the prince?”

“Yes, Mr. O’Neill, that is Prince Daniel. Take a good look, you might just get to interview him one of these days.”

Jack looked up. “Am I fired?”

“No, you’re not fired. When I want to fire you, believe me, you’ll know it.”

Jack started for the door but stopped suddenly. “Mr. Hammond?”

“You still here?”

“What would an interview, a real interview with this kid be worth?”

“I take it you’re referring to the prince?”

“How much?”

“What do you care? You’ve got just about as much chance…”

“Just out of curiosity. What would it be worth?”

“Oh, just a plain talk about world conditions, maybe a grand. An in-depth interview on a broad range of subjects would probably net you five thousand, easily.”

“Dollars?”

“Dollars.”

“I’m talking about his views on everything. The private and secret longings of a Prince, his innermost thoughts, as revealed to your correspondent in a private,” he leaned over Hammond’s desk, “personal, exclusive interview.” He smiled at Hammond’s open-mouthed expression. “Couldn’t use it? I didn’t think so.” Jack started for the door.

“With pictures?”

“How much more?”

“With pictures, you could probably name your price to any news service. But tell me, Mr. O’Neill, that is if you’re sober, just how are you going to get such a fantastic interview?”

“I plan to sneak into his sick room disguised as a thermometer. You said five grand? I want you to shake on that.” He reached his hand across the desk to grasp Hammond’s.

“Ah, you realize His Royal Highness is in bed sick today?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, so now I’d like to make a little bet with you. I’ll bet you five hundred that you can’t come up with the interview.”

“Sure.” Jack offered his hand again.

“You poor sucker, you’re already in to me for five hundred. So when you lose this one, you’ll owe me a grand. I’ll practically own you!”

Jack grinned unabashedly. “You have practically owned me for the past couple of years now, but that’s all over. I’m gonna win that money and who knows? I might even head back to Chicago.” He snatched the paper up as he dove out the door.

*

Jack took a cab back to his rooms, paying double to a driver who cheerfully careened through the early afternoon streets. To his relief, he found his guest hadn’t made a move. Sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch, he peeled enough of the blanket back to get a look at the face, comparing it to the newspaper he held. Quietly, he murmured, “Your Highness?”

“Yes, what is it?” Daniel answered. Jack jumped up excitedly, waving the paper in the air. He walked into the kitchen and buried the newspaper in the trash before sitting back in front of his guest. “Dr. Bonn’chavon?”

Going with instinct, Jack grasped the slim wrist as if he were a doctor taking a pulse. “Hmm? You’re fine, much better. Do you want anything?”

“So many things.” Daniel muttered.

“Yes, well, tell the good doctor everything.”

“Mmmm,” his eyes began to flutter open. “So many dreams.”

“Yes, what did you dream?”

“I dreamed I was asleep on the street and….a man came and he was tall and strong and he was so mean to me.”

“He was?”

Daniel rubbed his eyes with his hand. “It was wonderful.” His hand slipped down, his eyes opened fully, puzzled at the ceiling he was staring at before turning his eyes toward Jack.

“Good morning.” Jack realized the black and white photo hadn’t done the young prince justice. The kid was breathtakingly attractive, with long-lashed blue eyes, light brown hair longer than the current fashion and a sinful mouth. No wonder he’d been drawing adoring crowds all over the world. He imagined princesses were lining up to snag this eligible prince.

“Where is Dr. Bonn’chavon?” Those eyes blinked rapidly in confusion.

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Wasn’t I talking to him just now?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Have…have I had an accident?” His eyes widened, his face paled.

“Don’t worry, you’re quite safe with me.” Jack smiled to reassure him. “Would you like to sit up?”

“I think, yes.” Jack watched him scoot up in the couch, pulling away from him. “Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?”

“This is what’s laughingly known as my apartment.” Jack spread his hands out. Daniel’s eyes took in the small, nominally decorated living room, tiny kitchen and bed, all visible from the couch.

“Did…did you bring me here by force?” His chin rose.

“Oh, no, quite the contrary.”

“Have I been here all night…alone?”

“If you don’t count me, yes.”

“So I’ve spent the night here with you.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if I’d use those words, exactly, but..er…from a certain angle, yes.” He followed Daniel’s puzzled gaze down to his clothes. “You showed up wearing those clothes.” He didn’t think he was imagining the relief cross Daniel’s face. “By the way, I’m Jack, Jack O’Neill.”

Daniel presented his hand. “How do you do?”

“Very well,” Jack swallowed a smile. “And you are?”

“His…you may call me Daniel.”

“Okay, Daniel, how about some coffee?”

“What time is it?”

“About one-thirty, I think.”

Daniel fumbled to release himself from the blanket. “One-thirty! I must hurry. I must go.”

“Why? There’s plenty of time.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother, I promise you. Here drink your coffee and then you can clean up.”

Suddenly, Daniel smiled and Jack’s heart gave an unexpected flip. “Thank you, that would be nice.”

*

Jack took advantage of the running water in the bathroom to grab the phone and hunt down Kawalsky. “Listen, Charlie, I need to borrow your camera for a little while, you know the one that looks like a lighter. Can’t tell you, but I’m working on a big story.” Jack hurriedly silenced him. “Yeah, I know, but this time it really is a big story. Get over here as quick as you can. Yeah, yeah, twenty-five percent.”

Daniel emerged from the bathroom in clean jeans, a button-down dress shirt and sneakers, his hair still wet. “You young kids and your hair.” Jack shook his head.

“You don’t like my hair.” Daniel toweled the dripping curls.

“If it were short, it wouldn’t be as hard to manage.” Jack suggested as Daniel carelessly fingered his hair into some semblance of style.

“Maybe I should get it cut.” He glanced at the clock. “I really, really have to go now. Thank you for your hospitality, it was very kind of you.”

“No, it was no trouble at all. Can I call you a cab or something?” Jack tried to stall.

“No, I think I will walk, at least part of the way. Thank you again.” Daniel offered his hand.

“You’re welcome, Daniel, maybe we’ll meet again.”

He smiled sweetly. “I believe I’d like that.”

*

Jack trailed him through the streets, watched as he bought a gelato and ate it leisurely before stopping in front of a salon. He stood there for several moments fingering his hair before he hefted his pack and walked in. Jack made a quick call on a pay phone, found a convenient bench, donned sunglasses and waited for him to re-emerge. He stared when Daniel came out half an hour later looking no different. “Couldn’t part with the hair, huh?”

Daniel turned, startled. “Oh, Mr. O’Neill. The… my father would have disapproved of my cutting my hair.”

“Some father you’ve got there. Listen, why don’t you at least let me buy you lunch before you go…um…back?” Jack motioned to one of the street cafes.

“Oh, I’ve never eaten at a café before. But you must let me pay, I have money.”

“That’s nice to know. Come on, Daniel, what do you say we play hooky for the day?”

“What is ‘hooky’?”

Jack lightly placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you on the way.”

*

“So you’re going back to the university?”

Daniel nodded as he ate enthusiastically. “I have one more year, then I will….oh, I’m not sure what I’ll do but my father will think of something, he always does.” He shifted his rapt attention from the fellow patrons to his companion.

“Hey, Jack.” Jack adopted a surprised look at the interruption.

“Charlie, have a seat. Daniel, this is my buddy, Charlie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Daniel.” Kawalsky nervously flipped a lighter through his hands.

“Thank you,” Daniel smiled politely.

“Listen, Jack, you got a minute?”

“Daniel, we’ll be back in just a minute, I’ve just got a bit of business to discuss with Charlie.” Jack dragged Kawalsky off to a corner of the building where he could keep an eye on Daniel.

“Is that who I think it is?”

”If you think it’s someone who is allegedly tucked up in bed with a high fever, then yes, it is who you think it is. Is that the camera?”

“Yeah, it’s just like a lighter, just flick it and snap the shot. How did you pull this off, O’Neill?”

“Hey, didn’t I tell you I was good?”

“He doesn’t know you’re a reporter, right?”

“And I’d like to keep it that way. Okay?”

“Sure.” Kawalsky followed them back to the table. “So what are you drinking?”

“Champagne.” Jack narrowed his eyes at Charlie.

“Champagne for lunch? You must be a pretty high flier, Daniel, if that’s your usual drink.”

Daniel motioned for another glass. “Oh, no, I’ve only had it once, at my father’s…anniversary.”

“Don’t you mean your parent’s anniversary?” Charlie longed for a beer instead.

“No, my father’s fortieth anniversary…at his job.”

“Forty years, that’s a long time. Most folks retire before then.” Jack sat silently, willing for now to let Charlie lead the conversation, idly playing with the lighter.

“He….people don’t usually retire in his line of work unless their health is bad.” Daniel smiled at the waiter. “Thank you.”

“Then let us drink to his health.” Jack suggested as Daniel filled their glasses.

“You know, that’s what everyone says?” 

Daniel watched with curiosity as Jack lit a cigarette. “Want one?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never smoked before.” He admitted with charming candor.

”Pretty strict at school, are they?” Jack passed it over.

“You really have no idea how strict.” Daniel inhaled cautiously as Jack flicked his lighter again.

“Well, what’s the verdict?”

Daniel coughed. “Nothing to it, right?”

*

“What’s that?” Daniel asked with avid curiosity as he and Jack walked around the market. Kawalsky had deserted them after lunch, claiming he had work to do. It was only after he left that Daniel exclaimed that he had left his lighter behind. Jack had pocketed it smoothly, saying he would return it tomorrow.

Jack followed Daniel’s gaze. “Oh, that’s a scooter. You know, for riding through the streets. Like to give it a try?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Telling himself he was only doing this for the story, Jack walked over and tried, in broken Italian, to negotiate for the rental. “May I?” He whipped around to see Daniel standing behind him. With a smile, and in fluent Italian, Daniel negotiated with the owner of the vividly yellow scooter.

“You know, I took you for an American. Where are you from, anyway?” 

“I was born in France, but my family has..interests in many different countries.”

Jack hid a smile. “What is your family business?”

“We’re in public relations.” Daniel pretended to examine the scooter. 

“Yeah.” Jack rolled his eyes behind Daniel’s back.

“Can we ride now?”

“Sure, why not? Hey, wait, I wanted to drive!” Jack barely managed to hop on before Daniel took off.

“My money, I drive!” Daniel shouted back at him. “Hang on.”

Jack did, grabbing Daniel around the waist as they flew haphazardly down a cobblestone street. “Slow down, kid!” Jack yelled as they whizzed by several startled pedestrians in a crosswalk.

“I don’t want to!” Jack buried his face in Daniel’s back as they turned a sharp corner and just caught the edge of a street café, turning a table up and causing diners to leap shouting to their feet. Behind them, came the distinct sound of police sirens. “Are they after us?”

“Who else would they be after? Will you stop this thing?” Jack tried to reach for the handlebars.

“No, I can do this.”

*

“Let me drive, I can do this.” Jack mimicked as they stood in a courtroom before a stern faced judge as the owner of the café argued in rapid Italian, pointing to them and then a damaged table he had dragged into court. Daniel kept his gaze firmly planted on the floor. “Let me handle this.” He walked up to the judge, opened his wallet and pointed to his ID and then to himself.

“Tell him we will pay for the damage.” Daniel raised his eyes briefly.

“I’m telling him that you’ll pay for the damage.” Jack held his hand out and Daniel handed several bills over. Still holding his hand out, he stood patiently waiting, until Daniel handed over more money. He muttered something in Italian that Jack suspected wasn’t very complimentary, especially seeing the twinkle in the judge’s eye.

*

“Kid, you’re not fit to be left alone.” Jack complained as they escaped the courthouse.

“Oh, but it was fun, wasn’t it?” Daniel was trying to see everything at once. “Where are we going?” He followed Jack across the square.

“You’ve never head of The Mouth of Truth?”

“This is it?” Daniel’s eyes grew large with excitement.

“The legend is that if you’re given to lying, you put your hand in there and it’ll be bitten off.”

“That’s a horrible idea.” Nonetheless, Daniel seemed morbidly fascinated with the possibility.

“Let’s see you do it.” With a worried expression, Daniel eased his hand forward. Seeing Jack looking at him, he swallowed hard, closed his eyes and inched his hand closer. Jack lit his cigarette, waiting as, at the last second, Daniel lost his nerve and jerked his hand back. 

“Let’s see you do it,” Daniel challenged, backing away.

“Sure.” Jack hesitated but then boldly shoved his hand in. “See, nothing to it.” Suddenly he cried out and jerked his hand out, displaying an empty sleeve.

“Oh!” Daniel blinked in shock momentarily before slapping Jack on the arm. “That wasn’t funny.”

*

They stopped in yet another café and had a coffee and dessert and laughed about their criminal record. Further down the sun-lit cobblestone street, they came upon an old woman, dressed in black including a heavy lace veil, kneeling in prayer before a huge wall completely covered with small plaques. Daniel gently traced one with his finger. “What do they mean, all these inscriptions?”

“Well, each one represents a wish fulfilled. The story was that during the war, a man with his four children were caught out in the open during an air-raid. They took shelter against the wall and prayed for safety, for there was no way to escape. Bombs fell very close but no one was hurt. Later, the man came back and put up a tablet, giving thanks. Since then, it’s become a sort of shrine; people come to pray and whenever their wishes are granted, they put up another little plaque.”

“That’s a wonderful story.” He seemed entranced by all the stories on the wall.

“Read some of ‘em.” Jack stepped back to light another cigarette. “Make a wish.”

Daniel’s eyes were bright with a sudden sadness. “The chances of it being granted are very slight.”

Jack shrugged. “You never know. Listen, there’s a decent place down on the waterfront to eat dinner. How about it?”

Daniel straightened. “Sounds wonderful.”

*

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the old cobblestone streets, visiting museums and churches, where Daniel showed off his expensive French education by chatting in Italian with curators, priests and fellow tourists. Jack just regretted that he couldn’t get away with using the camera more than once in the church; there was a light in Daniel’s eyes that was almost spiritual in nature. Daniel had heard the click and silently chastised him with those same eyes.

As dusk fell, they found their way to the waterside restaurant, to a table not far from the band, skirting the bar area which was packed with locals and the oddly dressed tourists. “Jack, I just want to tell you how much fun I’ve had today. No one has ever been so kind to me before.” Daniel drank it all in, the barge decorated with lanterns and flowers, swaying gently in the water.

Jack looked down, guiltily. “It was no trouble.”

“But it was! I got to do anything I wanted and we didn’t do anything that you wanted to.”

“It just seemed the thing to do.” He couldn’t meet those eyes, fumbling with the lighter before slipping it back into his pocket.

“It was very unselfish of you.”

Jack shifted uneasily before standing. “Let me get us a drink, I’ll be right back.”

He kept his back to Daniel, trying to school his expression when he heard a loud shout. Turning back, he saw two black-suited men attempting to drag Daniel out of his seat. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” He dashed back over, grabbing the first man and punching him in the face. Daniel was still struggling with the second man when a man at the next table leaped into the fight.

“Robbers! Thieves!” The small man cursed in Italian, swinging wildly, hitting Daniel instead.

Within minutes, most of the diners, and the band, were involved in the fracas. Jack held his own, trying to keep Daniel in sight as the fight escalated. He simply couldn’t resist snapping one last picture as he spied Daniel swinging the remains of a guitar with more enthusiasm than accuracy. Unfortunately, the sounds of sirens in the distance meant that their fun had to come to an end. He elbowed his way through, grabbing Daniel and nearly getting punched for his troubles. “Come on!”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here before the cops come. I don’t want to be arrested twice in one day.”

“Oh, good point.” They wriggled their way out of the restaurant and out onto the street.

Jack looked over at Daniel, wincing. “Caught you, did he?”

“What?”

“Right here.” Jack tapped a gentle finger on the bruised cheekbone. Daniel flinched at his touch. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine, just startled me. Hadn’t we better keep going?”

*

“It’s not champagne, but..” Daniel turned as Jack handed him a wineglass.

“Thank you, I’m sure it’s fine.” They stood silently on the tiny balcony, looking at the quiet street. Behind them, the radio played softly.

“You’re very quiet. You okay?”

Daniel took the icepack Jack offered. “A little tired, that’s all.”

“You’ve had quite a day.”

“A wonderful day.” He smiled as the music ended and an announcer’s voice began.

“This is the American Hour, from Rome, broadcasting a special bulletin in English and Italian. Tonight, there is still no further word from the bedside of Prince Daniel in Rome, where he was taken ill yesterday on the last leg of his European goodwill tour. This has given rise to speculation that his condition may be serious, which is causing alarm and anxiety among his people.” Daniel hurriedly walked over to switch off the radio.

“The news can wait until tomorrow.”

Jack smiled slowly at him. “Yes, it can.”

“May I have a little more wine?” Daniel fumbled his glass between his hands, desperately searching for something to say. “We missed dinner. We should have gone to the market, I would have cooked you dinner.”

“Teach you that in school, did they?” He drank, his eyes never leaving Daniel.

“I am a very good cook, I learned in Paris. I believe I could make a living of it.” His voice was unknowingly wistful.

“Then I’d better get a bigger place. One with a proper kitchen.”

Daniel’s eyelashes slowly fell, reluctant to hold Jack’s gaze. “Yes.” He quickly swallowed the rest of his wine. “I…I must go.” 

“Daniel.” Jack slid his hands over Daniel’s shoulders, pulling him close. Daniel stood stiffly within his arms, for long moments before he swayed toward him, Jack’s hand sliding through his hair. “There’s something I must tell you.” He leaned in for a kiss.

“No, please, you mustn’t.” Pulling away was the hardest thing he had ever done.

*

“If you would just stop at this next corner.” Daniel’s eyes were firmly planted out the car window.

“Here?” Jack slowed to a stop.

“Yes.” Daniel still could not meet his eyes. “I have to leave you now. I’m going to that corner, there and turn. You must stay in the car and drive away. Promise not to watch me go beyond the corner. Just let me leave you. Please.”

“Alright.” Jack replied quietly. Begging, he knew, would do him no good and would only hurt Daniel.

“I don’t know how to say good-bye. There are no words.” His voice choked for a moment.

“Don’t, then.” It was the dark of night and no one was about. Jack dragged Daniel into his arms and kissed him passionately. Daniel desperately returned the embrace for a few seconds before wrenching away and tumbling out of the car. Jack leapt out of the car as if to pursue, but he merely stood and watched as Daniel ran around the corner, not looking back.

*

“Your Royal Highness, twenty four hours, they cannot all be blank.” His valet was practically wringing his hands.

“They are not.” Daniel answered simply.

“But what explanation am I to offer Their Majesties?”

“I was indisposed. I am better now.” He lowered the icepack, only to bring it back up at Henri’s disapproving stare.

“Sir, you must appreciate that I have my duty to perform, just as Your Royal Highness has His duty…”

Daniel rounded on him in icy fury. “Henri, I trust you will not find it necessary to use that word again. Were I not completely aware of my duty to my family and my country, I would not have come home tonight.” His voice fell to a whisper. “Or indeed ever again.” He straightened his shoulders. “Now, since I understand we have a very full schedule today, you have my permission to withdraw.” A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a tray. Daniel sighed softly. “No milk and crackers tonight. That will be all, thank you, Henri.”

Daniel found a chair on the spacious balcony and watched in silence as the night sky became another day.

*

The streaking dawn found Jack on his tiny balcony looking out over the city. There was a knock and he turned around, hopefully. The knocking persisted and he rushed to the door, flinging it open, his face dropping in disappointment for the second time that morning. His first early morning visitor had been Kawalsky and he had reluctantly turned the mini-camera over to him. He ushered the older man in. “Mr. Hammond.”

“Well, is it true? Did you really get it?”

“Did I get what?” Jack turned back toward the window.

“The Prince story? The exclusive, did you get it?”

”No,” he kept his back turned, his hands jammed in his pockets. “No, I didn’t get it.”

“What? That’s impossible! Jack, you can’t hold out on me like this!”

“Who’s holding out?”

“You are.”

Jack wandered back to his desk, idly picking up items and setting them down. “What are you talking about?”

”I know. First you come into my office and ask about an exclusive on the Prince; next you disappear. Then I get a rumor that the Prince isn’t sick after all, but he’s out on the town.”

“What kind of newspaper man are you? You believe every two-bit rumor that comes your way?”

“Yeah. And a lot of other rumors, about a shindig down by the river.” Jack’s eyes brightened at the memory. “And the arrest of four Secret Service men from a country which shall remain nameless. And then comes news of the Prince’s miraculous recovery? It all adds up! And don’t think by playing hard-to-get that you’ve raised the price of that story, a deal’s a deal. Now, come on, come on, where’s the story?”

“I have no story.”

Kawalsky burst in. “Jack! You have to see these pictures! Oh, Mr. Hammond, you got here at just the right time.”

Jack deliberately tipped his wine glass all over Charlie’s suit. “Oh, Charlie, look what a mess you’ve made! Always spilling stuff everywhere.” He grabbed his arm. “Come on, you know what wine’s like, got to get that out before it stains.”

Hammond made a grab for the envelope of pictures, Jack nimbly snatched them back, stuffing them in his pocket. “Hey, what are you two up to?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in, just a couple of Kawalsky’s dames, you wouldn’t like them. On second thought, maybe you would…”

“Don’t change the subject! When you came into my office yesterday,…”

“Yeah, well, I thought I had a lead but I was wrong! That’s all there is to it, there is no story.” 

Hammond was clearly perturbed. “Well, the prince is having a press conference today, same time, same place. Maybe that’s one story you can get. And you own me five hundred bucks!”

“Take it out of my salary, fifty bucks a week.”

“Don’t think I won’t!” He slammed the door behind him.

“Hey, what gives? We get a better offer or what?”

“Charlie, I don’t know how to tell you this but…”

“Something tells me I’d better sit down for this one.” Charlie collapsed on the couch.

“Well, in regard to the story that goes with the pictures, there isn’t one.”

“W-why not?”

“I mean not as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, at least look at the pictures, they came out pretty well.”

Jack reluctantly took the envelope out and began looking at the pictures, smiling in spite of himself. Charlie looked over his shoulder. “I especially like the one of him whacking that goon with the guitar. But I thought I’d lead with this one.” He tapped the picture of Daniel examining the wall, clearly entranced. “You know, the wall where dreams come true?”

Jack smiled sadly. “Yeah, that would be a good one. Then follow up with the wishes?” The picture of Daniel was crisp and clear, eyes closed, trying to screw up the courage at the Mouth of Truth. Even though the quality wasn’t as good, Jack found himself drawn to the one in the church where the only light was the candles and Daniel’s luminescent eyes.

“Yeah.” Charlie answered softly. “Jack.”

He thrust the pictures back into his hands. “You do what you want, Charlie, I can’t stop you.”

“He’s fair game. It’s always open season on princes!”

“I know but I…look, I can’t stop you from selling the pictures if you want. You’d get a good price for them.”

“Yeah!” He collected his precious pictures.

“You going to the interview?” Jack shrugged his jacket on.

“Well, yeah. You?”

“It’s an assignment, isn’t it?”

*

They both stood, looking up at the lavishly ornate marble front of the embassy building. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.” Kawalsky cracked as they displayed their credentials, made their way with the rest of the reporters past the tourists into the embassy receiving room, taking in the large chair placed in front of deep purple drapes. A man appeared between from behind the drapes and clapped his hands twice.

“Ladies and gentleman of the press, His Royal Highness, Prince Daniel.” He held the curtain aside, waiting patiently for the prince. Long moments later, Daniel emerged accompanied by several other formally dressed individuals. He was fashionably dressed in a dark navy suit, light blue shirt, his hair had been carefully styled. Jack bit back a smile at the poorly concealed bruise as Daniel approached, stopping in front of the chair. “Your Royal Highness, the ladies and gentleman of the press.” Daniel nodded slowly, his eyes stopping as they rested on Jack and he seemed to quiver slightly, before sitting, legs crossed, hands clasped together, his back ramrod straight, gazing forward.

“Ladies and gentleman, His Royal Highness will now answer questions.”

An older gentleman stepped forward, bowing slowly. “Your Royal Highness, I believe at the outset that I should express the pleasure of all of us at your recovery from your recent illness.” His eyes were drawn, as all others were, to the bruise that stood out sharply on a pale complexion.

“Thank you,” Daniel answered quietly.

A voice piped up from the crowd, clearly an American. “Does Your Highness believe that a federation would be a possible solution to Europe’s economic problems?”

“I am in favor of any measure which would lead to closer cooperation in Europe.”

“And what, in the opinion of Your Highness, is the outlook for friendship among the nations?”

“I have every faith in it…” he paused, “as I have faith in relations between people.”

Jack spoke up. “May I say that we believe Your Highness’s faith will not be unjustified?”

Daniel was clearly startled then nodded slightly. “I am so glad to hear you say it.”

Another voice inquired as to which city His Highness enjoyed the most. He hesitated. “Each in it’s own way was…unforgettable. It would be difficult..” His face softened into another smile. “Rome, by all means. Rome.” His blue eyes locked with Jack’s. “I will cherish my visit here, in memory, as long as I live.”

“Despite your indisposition?” The same reporter asked.

“Despite that.”

One of the men standing by the chair stepped forward. “Photographs may now be taken.” The photographers teemed forward snapping photo after photo. Kawalsky whipped his lighter out, pointed it at Daniel and snapped. The prince appeared frightened for a second, but then a look of realization swept his face before the mask reappeared. Kawalsky shrugged. “Thank you, thank you very much.” The aide began ushering the press back.

“No,” Daniel rose suddenly. “I wish to meet some of the press.” His aide appeared stunned but nonetheless followed him into the crowd. Daniel stopped in front of the first reporter.

“Hitchcock, Chicago Daily News.”

“I’m so happy to meet you, Mr. Hitchcock.”

“Scanziani de La Suise.” The reporter was obviously shocked as Daniel shook his hand.

“Deutsche Press Agend.”

“Freut mich sehr!” Daniel nodded.

“Lampel, New York Herald Tribune.”

“Good afternoon, I quite enjoyed your country.”

“Charlie Kawalsky, CR Photo Service.”

“How do you do?” Daniel took his hand.

“Er. May I present His Highness with some commemorative photographs of his visit to Rome?” Daniel looked startled at the envelope which appeared in his hand. Recovering quickly, he slipped them in his jacket pocket.

“Thank you so very much.”

“Jack O’Neill, American New Service.”

“A very great honor.” Daniel’s voice shook more than a little as he took his hand.

Jack watched as Daniel continued down the line of reporters before he turned and walked with slow purpose back to the platform. Turning, he caught Jack’s eye one last time, his eyes clouded, he smiled before disappearing behind the curtain.

The press bustled out of the room, chattering about the Prince’s bruise, his pallor, that he clearly was not fully recovered from his illness, that he seemed quite unlike himself, almost approachable, quite human. 

Jack stood where he was for quite a long time, just looking at the empty spot where he had last seen Daniel. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he slowly walked down the long hall, taking one last look behind him before he shoved the door open.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to cut his losses and head back to Chicago, he thought as he donned his sunglasses against the bright sunshine. But he knew he wouldn’t leave Rome, could never leave Rome now. There was a part of his heart that would forever be entwined with this city. No, he would never leave Rome.

He lit a cigarette and slowly walked home.


End file.
